The Path of Time
by Alethia II
Summary: Weary and in need of safety after hollow victory at the gates of Moria, Thráin and Thorin bring the exiles of Erebor west to Ered Luin, completely forgetting the fact that at the west side of northern Ered Luin rests elven settlement. The anger fueled by Thranduil's treason and pain of losing their home does not lessen despite the fact that these elves are willing to help. Pre-Hobb
1. Prologue

The spring was at its early beginning, the snow has thawed and watered the hungry earth beneath, letting the grass grow vivid green and trees recovered their green crowns. Light, warm breeze licked through the Ithiltaur from the Great Sea, greeting the newly developed leaves and complete awakening of the forest life. The same breeze was welcomed by Ranwen's skin, small tingling feeling cruising her body as she smelt faint scent of salt in the air.

Upon one of the tallest mithnomo trees lay Ranwen's home built upon a wide talan. It was not as big as was the home of her second cousin Galadriel in Lothlórien but had considerable beauty and practicality. Ranwen was leaned on the railing, greeting the sun, dressed in light, forest green dress to likeness of the newly sprouting green leaves.

The heavy yet still light footsteps alerted her to imminent company and she smiled, turning to face her guest as loose strand of her ash brown hair slipped forth from where it was tucked behind her pointed ear. Her guest was a good friend of her, a young dwarf by the name Glorur; lord of Thoduum, dwarven city built early in the Second Age, shortly after War of Wrath was over and good part of Middleearth sank into water, breaking Ered Luin in two.

It was built by Durin II's younger son Dolir, tired of Khazad-dûm and almost complete darkness. He moved small part of his kin here and built Thoduum, slightly north-west of where Belegost was, not wanting to meddle in the ruins but to be close to Ithiltaur. Ranwen founded Ithiltaur quite early in the First Age and after Morgoth destroyed Beleriand, there was short lived fear that it might take Ithiltaur with it. However, fortune and fate favoured them and Ithiltaur survived the accursed fate of Beleriand.

"Good morning Glorur. Came to join me in breakfast and my appreciation for spring sun?" Ranwen asked in her soothing voice as she pushed off the railing.

"Aye. Only a fool would not appreciate good company and meal." Glorur smirked and she laughed, it was widely known that dwarves of Thoduum appreciated elven meals as much as elves liked theirs.

Elves were mostly vegetarians by age long choice but Ranwen soon recognized that more variety of meals would be beneficial. They had deep respect for the animals and hunted them only for the sake of meal, never for sports.

"Sit then. I shall bring out the breakfast." Ranwen offered him a seat at the table that was situated on the balcony behind her house, looking towards the sea.

Glorur nodded his thanks and took his seat, patiently waiting for the lady of the forest to return with the meal. It was abundant, from fresh bread and vegetables, to meat and eggs and mead for drinking although he knew Ranwen would indulge herself with fresh tea rather than mead.

"I do have a request." Glorur stated during their conversation.

"Oh?"

"Young Darias is of age and will be accompanying the trade caravan to Swynford at Eryn Vorn."

"You wish me to forge him a blade." Ranwen finished for him with a smile.

"Aye. There is no finer blade than one made by the hand of someone who has the art of Valinor in her head."

"Would be my pleasure. I will come later in the night though; forest and gardens need my attention now when the sun is out."

"No hurry." Glorur assured her and took a bite of the bread, equally enjoying the warm sun as his companion.

Ranwen spent most of her day tending to the gardens, inspecting the trees to see which need tending and which could be cut, and crops that needed to be sown. The night already fell when she was finally done and made her way to Thoduum. She was greeted by perplexed and worried looking Glorur.

"Whatever happened to make you worry so?"

"Thráin and Thorin have arrived with their kin. They are many in numbers, weary of their long journey and bitter. I don't think I need to tell you the story." Glorur stated.

"Of course not. I will forge Darias' sword in one of our forges under the stars. Last thing I want is to cause strife between kindred right now. However, if you are in need of help, don't hesitate to ask. I know how to deal with stubborn dwarves." Ranwen stated.

"I thank you for understanding. We will most likely be in need of healers and remedies. They might be very hostile and distrustful toward the elves but I think they cannot afford themselves pride right now when many are ill, whether from sickness or injuries."

"Indeed. Call out to the sentry if the help is needed. Good night my friend." Ranwen bowed her head a bit and traced back to Ithiltaur, heading for the forge that was not far from her home.

To say the least, the dwarves of Erebor did not like the idea of living with elves for neighbours but Glorur was definitive in his judgement. He welcomed them and told them they could stay for as long as they wanted, live and work with them but he would not have the hostility toward his elven friends, stating rather boldly to Thráin that it is not reasonable to hate the entire kind for actions of one kin. Thorin brimmed with anger but he knew his people were weary and in need of safety. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew what Glorur said was true but Thranduil's betrayal combined with failure to take back Moria and empty victory over the Orcs grazed his heart with anger and resentment.

"Since I can tell you don't want elven healers, that are much more capable than ours might I add, I shall inform the elven sentry to send us the medical supplies we are obviously in shortage and work with that. Rather foolish of you to reject help though." Glorur bristled, he was 107 years and thus younger than Thráin but far more experienced when it came to elves than any other dwarf of Erebor; and marched away, leaving slightly befuddled but fuming with anger dwarf king and prince behind.

* * *

AN: Just to make some things clear. I have read good number of Hobbit fanfictions so far that are very good though deviate from the book and movie especially when it comes to Thorin and company; and I also noticed that some 'hardcore Tolkien fans' as they like to sign themselves, flaming people. This is fanfiction people; it means that people are free to write whatever they want as long as they don't claim the original parts of the story as their own. I like reviews just like any other author on this site and I laugh at flames. So yeah, I got caught in the Hobbit mania as well. If people can put in vampires, faeries and werewolves, I sure as hell can make up entirely new places and play with races that are already in the Tolkien's original story. I like writing OCs. Sue me...And yeah, right now my main OC seems perfect. She isn't. You can't put everything in one chapter. If you like the introduction, leeave a review.

To explain some things I came up with: mithnomo - Quenya word for grey oak, Ithiltaur - Quenya word for Moon forest, Thoduum - Noble home, Ranwen - wandering lady, Glorur - silver riddlemaster


	2. Chapter 1

The first time Thorin's eyes set upon an elf at close range was over sixty years after their arrival in the Blue Mountains. He would see elves from afar, talking to his kinsmen amiably, even working together. The elves however did not approach Thorin and his people, which was fine by him; he still did not trust them though Glorur said they were keeping distance out of respect for Thorin and because they did not want to cause strife between kindred.

It was late night and Thorin wandered the halls of Thoduum, trying to keep his mind busy and not thinking about his sister's screams that lasted for hours now as she tried to bring her second child into the world. He knew Nar's death caused by Orcs was a considerable blow to her psyche but she held strong for the sake of her child.

His dark blue eyes settled on a she-elf in dull grey clothes, with light toned leather apron over it; her ash brown hair was pulled up in a messy bun and her hazel eyes shone in the semi darkness of the forge. She was tall and lean like all other elves, making him wonder how she was able to deal such determined and absolute strokes on the metal when her arms did not show much of developed muscles.

It looked like she was forging an elven blade, seeing it was slightly curved. His detest and anger for the elves was replaced by sheer curiosity as he leaned on the doorway and watched her, unaware of knowing, satisfied smiles Balin and Glorur bore as they noticed him looking.

"Who is she?" Balin asked, pleased that the anger was albeit probably shortly, switched with pure curiosity and admiration, not that Thorin would ever admit that.

"That would be lady Ranwen herself. She often retreats to one of our forges when she wants darkness and heat of the forge. Aside Giltano, the chief elf-smith in Ithiltaur, there is no smith in Middleearth to match her skills. Though she forges rarely as of late, spends more time worrying about the world." Glorur replied.

"She is not entirely she-elf, is she? I heard rumours but did not ask."

"Aye, she is half Maiar. Rare, powerful combination. Wise and compassionate."

"You like her."

"As any other sensible male of any species. Are you telling me you do not find her eye pleasing?" Glorur smirked.

"Aye, she is very beautiful. Maybe…" Balin trailed off as his eyes settled on Thorin's back.

"Most definitely maybe. It will take time though." Glorur agreed and walked off with Balin following him.

"Can you help me?"

Her soothing, calm voice startled Thorin and saw her eyes trained on him for a second before they settled on the metal again.

"With what?" Thorin grumbled acidly as always though he noticed she did not react to his tone at all.

"That bucket by the window." She nodded with her head to it. "I need it."

Thorin grumbled something in Khazdul under his breath but did as she asked anyway. He was surprised to see water in the bucket, shining like thousands of diamonds.

"What is this?" Thorin asked, picking up the bucket.

"Water from the river, enriched with diamond dust." Ranwen replied.

'And blood.' She added mentally.

For several nights now, she has been haunted by dark memories of long ago and it disturbed her. She could feel the darkness creeping its way up from the depths of her marred soul. If you asked anyone if she were acting strangely, the anwer would be no. Those rare people that did know her quite well, knew she was not alright. Today she retreated herself in the deepest forge in Ered Luin, welcoming the heat and darkness as her mind flourished the idea of leaving the city again.

"What is its purpose?" Thorin asked briskly, keeping his question abrupt and short, keeping his eyes away from her face that seemed to be casting some sort of attraction spell without meaning to.

"You'll see." She smiled as she snapped out of her dark ruminations. "If you could, pour it over the sword."

Albeit doubtful, he poured the water over the blade and the metal hissed oddly, replacing its orange glow with bright silver. What stunned him though was the fact that she-elf removed her gloves and reached for the metal with her bare hand. Purely on instinct, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, stopping the hand bare inches from the metal. A strange warm tingle coursed his body as their skins connected and she looked at him surprised.

"You'll burn yourself."

"No, I won't. The metal is quite cool actually. Look." She slowly extracted her wrist from his quite firm but careful grip and touched the metal.

Thorin stared at her hand that rested on the metal and reached for it himself, surprised that the metal was indeed cool to the touch.

"What did you do?"

"It's a little trick I learnt from my father. It requires diamond dust and cooling spell." She shrugged and withdrew small, mated but sharp dagger from her belt and started carving into the blade.

At the very base, she engraved elven runes which Thorin assumed were her mark and beneath them was the name of the blade in Khuzdul. Once she was done engraving, she thrust the blade into the fire again and with last few strokes, finished the blade. Although elvish, Thorin found himself appreciating the item. It was sharp and shinny, like any other blade, perfectly balanced and light like a feather.

"What is your name?" Thorin more demanded then asked but she still did not seem affected by his gruffness at all.

"Ranwen." She simply replied and turned to get the sheath for the blade, missing the stunned look on his face.

He heard of Ranwen, the founder of Ithiltaur and great friend to the dwarves of Thoduum. Glorur told him she is very wise and compassionate, slow to anger and slow to forgive; capable warrior and smith.

Looking at the she-elf in front of him, Thorin could see just how plainly she wore herself, no air of arrogance royalty and nobility would usually bear. She was simple, down to earth person. And that both made him more curios and frightened.

"Thorin."

The young dwarf king turned around to see Balin standing in the doorway with grave expression and his heart flipped, pain clenching it.

"Dís?" he asked shakily.

"She's not well. The baby is here but she's bleeding heavily." Balin said gravely and looked at Ranwen. "Can you help her?"

"Uh, yes…Though you might want to tell me what exactly happened before I try to help her." Ranwen replied as she quickly dunked her hands in ice cold bucket of fresh water and followed after two very agitated, concerned dwarves.

"My sister went into labour two nights ago."

"Two nights?" Ranwen shrieked. "You should have sent for a healer when nothing happened the next day."

"She refused."

"Oh dear…" Ranwen muttered, recalling spells and herbs she might need; it has been a while since she had to treat stubborn woman that was hanging on death's door because she did not want to risk babe's health.

She stormed into the room that held Thorin's sister and immediately took over, earning scowls from two dwarf midwives but did not dare to say anything. Ranwen had immaculate tidiness to her healing work, mumbling healing spells and applying remedies as she saw fit, and Thorin could see some colour returning to his sister's skin.

After almost three hours, well after midnight, Ranwen was finished with healing and Dís was alive and on route to rather quick recovery.

"You look very tired." Thorin remarked when Ranwen let out a sigh as she leaned back into a chair.

"I have had a very busy day. I think I've reached my magic limit for today." Ranwen murmured but perked up at the sound of baby's cooing sounds.

Her eyes searched for the source and settled on a five year old dwarf boy Balin told her was Dís' older son, Fíli, who was watching over his baby brother like a hawk, enjoying the feeling of being able to protect. Thorin caught her curios and caring gaze, Glorur did mention in the passing Ranwen had a daughter.

"Fíli, give lady Ranwen your brother." Thorin ordered softly and the boy seemed very reluctant to do so, probably because he heard his uncle's detest and anger for elves but obeyed Thorin anyway and with great hesitation held out the bundle for Ranwen who took it quickly and settled his baby brother in secure hold of her long arms.

"You like the idea of being an older brother?" Ranwen asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping babe.

"Yes." Fíli replied in equal quietness.

"Hm…" Ranwen mouthed as she stared down at the baby that looked far too small for her but then again, her Ilmenlote was also of smaller size then she should have been for a baby that was half human, half elven.

"Something wrong?" Thorin asked and she blinked rapidly several times.

"Huh? No, he's perfectly healthy though to my understanding slightly early. I was just thinking how small he is. My daughter was rather small baby too for a child that is half Man, half elf." Ranwen quickly explained with small smile but the peace was broken by appearance of Lairelote, her right hand.

"You're needed back home. Moricuar has returned." She said with a smile and retreated.

"That would be my queue to leave." Ranwen transferred Kíli back to his older brother and stood. "Now, I don't care what your sister says or how stubborn she is, she is not to leave her bed for the next three days. If she does, so help me Valar, I will tie her to bed." She stated dead serious, bowed her head respectfully and left.

Thorin mused her good natured threat and noticed Balin giving him an odd but knowing look, making Thorin frown because he could not tell what Balin knew and he didn't. He shook his head and took a seat next to his sister's bed, intending to make sure his sister did not leave bed when she woke.

It was during the night as he made vigil at his sister's bedside, the halls echoed with soft sound of elven songs coming from the forest, one more dominant over the others and Glorur told him the voice belonged to Ranwen. The songs were soothing and soon Thorin found himself falling asleep. Just for tonight, he forgot the fact he did not trust elves.

* * *

AN: To LordofRhovanion: Yeah, I know how Gimli described Khazad-dum in its peak. I was going to explain the darkness in some later chapters, and yeah, Beleriand wasn't actually destroyed by Morgoth himself, it was destroyed as a result of War of Wrath but Ranwen is bit biased on that thought. I will be getting to that as well in later chapters.


	3. Chapter 2

Ilmenlote seldom felt lonely in her life. She was always surrounded by her friends and family, going on adventures with her adoptive younger sister Rosiel or staying in Rivendell or Imladris, depending whose company she would like more at the time. She loved her mother to the end of the world and could understand to some point when her mother would just up and leave, no one would ever be able to say that one understands Ranwen's pain.

However, Ilmenlote missed her mother. She wanted to be able to tell her about the young man she fell in love with and was willing to bond with her, enduring the years that would pass them unscathed by time. It was gift she inherited from her Maiar grandfather though honestly she did not think many mortals turned immortals would be able to cope with the fact time does not touch them but the mortal friends and family they know does.

Dressed in her usual outfit, Ilmenlote made way to Valley of Imladris at slow pace, not in a hurry to get there and she liked to enjoy nature, no matter how dangerous nature was getting these days. She was well aware that the darkness was stirring once again and that it was part of the reason her mother left to wander Middleearth.

Her dark brown eyes suddenly caught tracks of several hoof prints in the ground, fairly fresh. This peaked her curiosity, seeing as she did not see any caravan leaving Shire, Thoduum or Ithiltaur. And elves were meticulously periodic; meaning the last caravan of supplies from Grey Havens to Rivendell has passed this road two weeks ago.

"Horta Sulina." Ilmenlote murmured the command in elvish and the white mare picked up a pace, seeing until now she was going at relatively slow canter.

Soon she found herself tracking the hoof prints up on the small hill near Trollshaws. This confused her because most people avoided the place and stayed on its outskirts only if they had no other choice. Smile crept on her lips when she noticed a familiar tall figure in grey robes walking down the hill, looking quite annoyed.

"Whatever is the matter Olórin?" Ilmenlote called out in her soft pleasing voice, making him stop in his march and look up from beneath his pointed hat.

"Young Ilmenlote…" He chuckled, looking very pleased to see her. "I fear that being constantly exposed to utterly stubborn dwarves is not beneficial for me. Whatever are you doing here?"

"I am on my way to Rivendell. Rosiel is there and it has been quite a while since I had seen Elrond and twins."

"Ah…"

"You said dwarves."

"Ah yes, on a quest."

"Adventure? That does not sound much like dwarves."

"They are not in for a fun I'm afraid."

"Tell me as much as you can." Ilmenlote coaxed as she jumped down from Sulina's saddle and walked beside him, Gandalf obviously was not intending to return to the company until well after sunset.

"Where in the Valar's name are they?" Ilmenlote asked when two of them climbed up to the camp but only found their bedrolls and supplies on the ground.

Gandalf also noted that there were four ponies missing from the temporary pen erected at the campsite. Ilmenlote strained her ears and frowned.

"What is it?"

"Trolls. That way." She nodded with her head.

"Lead the way then." Gandalf instructed and two set off.

To see six dwarves tied in the bags as if they were a game whilst other seven were tied to the spit, was rather amusing in a way for Ilmenlote but she restrained herself from laughing and trailed after sneaking Gandalf.

"You brought a hobbit on the journey?" Ilmenlote whispered as they hid behind the tree tops, waiting for sun to be high enough.

"There is more to Bilbo Baggins than is currently seen." Gandalf huffed; obviously the issue has been brought up many times.

"I was just curious, no need to bite my head off."

"I apologize my dear." Gandalf murmured and turned to the troll's campsite again.

"He's taking us for fools."

"Fools?!"

"The dawn will take you all!" Gandalf's voice boomed over the small clearing, it was in moments like this one that Ilmenlote reminded herself that Gandalf was after all a Maia and quite powerful one when he wanted to be.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat him?"

Gandalf's reply was striking the middle of the boulder and Ilmenlote felt it quiver under her feet from where she was standing next to Gandalf; it split in two and sunlight burst through, permanently petrifying the trolls.

There was a moment of silence in which everyone stared at Gandalf and her before they broke out into cheers.

"If you could be so kind my dear, and set them free?" The wizard gave her a knowing smile to which she just nodded and gracefully slipped down, walking first to the dwarves that were on the ground.

"Master Balin, I did not think we would see each other that soon again." Ilmenlote greeted the older dwarf and with no great staring freed him from the sack

"Neither did I, lassie, but it is good to see you nevertheless." Balin smiled and noted slight scowl on Thorin's face.

To Balin's knowledge only Thorin and he met Ilmenlote, daughter of the Ranwen; woman Thorin has been yearning for ever since she left week after Kíli was born not that the prideful dwarf king would ever admit that. Balin would never forget the hollow, dark eyes he saw as the lady mounted her black mearas and rode off into the wilderness. No one said why she left but apparently it was not the first time Ranwen did that.

All Ilmenlote offered was that her mother's life was far from perfect and that she has lived through things that most of them would never think were possible. Glorur seemed to have pretty much the same short insight in the matter when Thorin asked him for Ranwen's sudden departure.

"Master Oakenshield." Ilmenlote greeted respectfully as she helped him free.

"Ilmenlote…" Thorin nodded. "What are you doing here?"

"I was on my way to visit my sister and kin on the north when I came across Gandalf. He looked quite annoyed." Ilmenlote explained as she freed the others.

Gandalf quickly introduced her to the rest of the company, noting the familiar loving glint in Kíli's eyes as he shook Ilmenlote's hand. If he would dare to assume, he would say those two knew each other from before; and quite well.

"They must have come down from the Ettenmoors." Gandalf concluded, looking at the stoned trolls.

"Rosiel said that when she was on patrol with Elladan and Elrohir that they noticed increased amount of orc packs coming down from the mountain and they saw trolls move around. Most disturbing fact." Ilmenlote piped in.

"What are they doing so far in the south?" Thorin asked.

"They haven't come down since the past age. Not since the darker power ruled these lands." Gandalf said suspiciously and Ilmenlote's eyes narrowed.

"Sauron." Ilmenlote all but growled at the name angrily.

"Indeed my dear." Gandalf agreed and looked at the trolls again. "They could not have moved in daylight."

"There must be a cave nearby." Thorin stated and they ventured off, searching for the cave.

They found all sorts of treasures in it, gold, silver, jewellery, gems…Ilmenlote's eyes however set on two swords Thorin found.

"Nor they were made by any smith among men." Gandalf said appreciatively, pulling the sword out of its sheath and even in the darkness of the cave, Ilmenlote recognised it so she moved over to the wizard and dwarf king.

"These were forged in Gondolin… By the High Elves of the First Age." Gandalf murmured and she saw look of hesitance and disgust in Thorin's eyes; apparently living close to the elves for 140 years did not change his mind much when elves were involved.

"You could not wish for a finer blade!" Gandalf snapped at Thorin angrily, obviously disapproving Thorin's dismissal of the blade.

Thorin gave him a look before he unsheathed the sword a bit and actually found in himself to appreciate the fine work.

"May I?" Ilmenlote asked, finally announcing her close presence and Gandalf handed her the sword he was holding.

She pulled it out of its sheath again and narrowed her eyes.

"This is Glamdring, sword of king Turgon. Also known as Foe-hammer." Ilmenlote stated and looked at the blade Thorin was holding. "And if I may be bold in presuming, that would be Orcrist, the Biter. Made for lord Echtelion of Gondolin." She added and nodded in affirmation of her presumption when she looked at it.

"My dear, these swords are older than you." Gandalf pointed out.

"They are but my mother has sketches of both swords in a scrapbook back home." Ilmenlote smiled.

"Of course she does. Sometimes I wonder what else she has in her house, sketched or scribbled." Gandalf remarked and started to move out of the cave.

"Where is your mother?" Thorin asked in a low whisper, loud enough for only Ilmenlote to hear.

"I do not know. Last time she sent me a letter, which was months ago, she was in Rhûn."

"What in the name of Mahal is she doing there?" Thorin asked, stunned to hear that one person alone would embark on such journey so far east.

"Your guess is good as mine, master Oakenshield. My mother's travelling destinations are often strange and downright perilous. But she always comes back and always has some new information and knowledge to pass on." Ilmenlote replied assuring and walked out.

"I do not find that quite reassuring."

"You are not the only one."

All conversation was stopped though as Radagast suddenly appeared and with him orc packs, albeit from the other direction.

"We are being hunted." Gandalf stated gravely.

And they broke into a run, with Ilmenlote securing their way as her mearas did not bolt and hence she was able to provide cover although her alone on an orc pack was not entirely winnable situation either.


End file.
